The Gods' Own Voice

by Silas DeBoer

  ~

  Kami greeted the dawn as she had done every day since she came to the Alabaster Tower, white in the morning light as the sun peeked over the jet black mountains of the east, breaker of monsoons and wall against the storm of centuries. The city fared well enough the morning after the tempest and the girl could see work crews clearing rubble from the street and rescuing survivors. The fleet was still out to sea, and the fisher-folk's craft lay strewn about the quay. Kami made for the stable and readied a donkey to begin her task and report back to the General. It was an odd title, from the Utter West, but it was the only title the Mistress of the Alabaster Tower would ever claim. Kami did not know what it truly meant, but none in the City ever bore it before her mistress and likely ever would after she died.

  Kami mounted the donkey, one of a dozen that the Alabaster Tower kept for the students to go about their duties in the City. The gatehouse guard gave orders for the bronze portcullis to open, and Kami smiled at the woman in her black lacquer armor and long-spear with black and crimson ribbons. The guards changed every month, and few ever saw service at the Alabaster Tower more than once in their lifetime, but every student knew their courtesies, and smiles went a long way to open hearts.

  The streets were littered with rubble from destroyed balconies and fallen roofs. Tiles gaped like broken teeth on every roof. Kami made her circuit, unafraid of any neighborhood for the reputation of the Alabaster Tower was more than enough to frighten away cutthroats from molesting any of its charges, but each Student was protected by a trained gyrehawk, just as Kami's circled high above her, eyes on the street. Every once in a while the girl briefly reached out to her gyrehawk, just for a second or two in order to glimpse through its eyes making note of side streets. The girl wrote diligently in her small book with a graphite stylus. She was the first of many to assess damage from the monsoon that only a day ago blotted out the sun, blew and howled with driving wind and water, flooding homes and sending the unwary flying through the air like a bird. The sheer number of dead pigeons was indicative of the terror of the night, but hopefully the shelters had seen the bulk of the City's populace safely through the terror of the storm.

  Kami followed the lay of the land down Breaker Street, crossed to Forgefire Way and meandered to the Water Way to count the ships and visit with the harbormaster's son, since Master Atmas was missing in the fury of the gods.

  Kami said her prayers to the Blue King and the Ugly Man for Master Atmas' soul, and rendered condolences to Atmas' eldest son, Arghyanin and his mother Sana. Kami did not truly understand their pain, since she had ever only known the Alabaster Tower, but she knew her courtesies. She did what she could to dull their grief, cloaking each with the Power so they might work efficiently in the cleanup.

  Kami moved on, past the battered quay, the overturned docks, the piles of sand that the sea had built up in the storm and even now wore away with each lapping wave. She and her donkey wove their way into the Crafter's Quarter, noting dazed faces and empty eyes as the people reclaimed what they could from the Storm's ravages. Some looked at her and scowled though, recognizing the barding on the donkey. Most of them would be dead inside their houses if not for the shelters.

  One man caught Kami's eye, for he was a foreigner. He had bright blue eyes, bright hair the color of straw (and some streaks were lilac!) with a half-crazed look on his face as he strummed a strange lute and sang to himself. He sat on a ruined piece of statuary, what had once been a black basalt Hydra, and he wore strange clothes, a shirt entirely woven of cloth of silver and buttoned in the front, baggy trousers of a blue material she did not recognize patched at the knees with yellow. Kami did not understand the words, so she reached out to his mind with flows of the Power and recoiled at the chaos, but the words made sense to her... Hey! Wait! I've got a new complaint, forever in debt to your priceless advice.... Hey! Wait! I've got a new complaint... The girl made a note of the foreigner and the song criticizing the Tower. Kami left the mad minstrel to his composition, and his eyes trailed after her for a while. She was glad to leave his shattered mind behind as well. His eyes haunted her... Blue as ice, blue as the sky.

  At least the Crafter's huts stood up better to the gale, with only a third of the houses toppled. The smithies fared the best she was glad to note, as the city's jewelry was famed far and wide. The Apothecaries on Blossom Way were closed, and when she inquired was told that they were administering aid to the wounded and giving mercy to the dying. The Scribes' shops did not fare so well, nor did the Silk Pavilion or the Potter's Way. The monsoon had toppled many older buildings and a few newly built, but in a way Kami saw this disaster as an opportunity; the old and decrepit fell away for the new and innovative. That was the way of the Alabaster Tower, to recognize strength and build upon it.

  It was mid-afternoon when Kami returned to the Tower to dine on flat-bread and a spicy vegetable sauce heavy on lentils, tubers, and peppers. The girl spent an hour composing her report from her notes, then made her way to the Audience Hall to wait with a half dozen other students of varying age from nine to twenty annums. She knew all the students in the Hall, heart and soul. Anin al-Bu was a homely young woman who wore the black silks of the Red Waste. Taki Kaorei was a renowned sword mistress from the Fire Isles, her body unblemished from three dozen battles, strong of mind and body and the most senior of the students. Avanan was Kami's cousin through her mother's line, the bastard son of a merchant captain who preferred to pay his crimes in life than dismemberment. Mei Jao-Dai was a young man with the almond eyes of the East, short and quick with her hands and feet. He was conflicted about Taki, whose people were sworn enemies but who was a student instructor he respected for her skill. Shiu Jao-Dai, sister to Mei, was tall and athletic, so unlike her brother's fury in her serene composure. Razia al-Ni was from a tribe in the Greenlands sworn to destroy Anin's people, but their animosity ended once they set foot on the Island.

  The Audience Hall was the largest room in the Tower, fit for a merchant prince or a minor monarch. Midnight and Ivory tiles lined the floor, gleaming in alternate patterns. The walls were lined with pillars holding up the arched roof. The chamber was much longer than it was wide, with a raised dais bearing three large chairs of carved sandstone, marble, and jet. No one sat in the massive chairs, ever, but the General rested on the second step from the top of the dais, leaning forward to hear the reports. Standing to the General's left was Sir Devasa of the Green Fire, and to the General's right stood Shala of the Winter Storm. Of the Tower's twenty agents, Devasa and Shala stood middling in the silent ranks, but both were efficient administrators with an eye for detail, clever with solutions and confident in the General's presence. The General had the habit of unnerving anyone who approached or stood in her presence.

  The reports went in order of district, so Kami was second after Taki, who reported on the Palace and the Councilors. Taki spoke eloquently even though the Ghibenese tongue was her third of five, and the sword-mistress had no need of ink and paper, so ordered was her mind. Kami read her paper without error before handing it over and answering pointed questions from the General's agents dressed in scale mail and silk, Devasa in vermillion and Shala in cerulean and white.

  "A foreigner you say, with sky eyes and straw hair?" The General's long hair was graying in streaks, held back with a simple circlet of Ivysteel with a pale jade disc at the brow. She was of middling height but even sitting on a step she dominated the room with her presence. It was the General's eyes that sent fear racing through Kami, those mismatched eyes of emerald and azure which saw everything. "Hm, Devasa, send Santi and Elit to pick the man up." Kami liked Santi very much, for she was kind and loved music of all kinds, while Elit was a skilled Skimmer, able to read others minds as well as Kami could read her own script.

  Reports from the rest of the island proved as catastrophic to structures. Despite the shelters, the dead number in the low three digits. Hundreds more were injured, but what was destroyed could be rebuilt. The Merchant Quarter faired be
tter than the rest of the city, although some of Argan the Small's guards were overzealous with suspected looters, using scourges before their arrest by the Midnight Guard. The farmers plying the interior fields of the island reported that they had harvested seven in ten acres before the storm hit landfall, so the city's supply of spices and vegetables was not as terrible a loss if the storm had caught everyone unawares. The City's Navy had already been spotted on the horizon returning, but the General would have to wait for the various Captains' reports. Last was Shiu's report, who used gyrfalcons and the Tower's system of empathic enhancers to observe the eastern end of the island, mountainous, rocky, and treacherous for any travel but wing. On the shoals of the east was a carrack with black sails, a bone prow and wandering survivors battered by wave and rock.

  "Dirgesingers," breathed Devasa in disbelief.

  The General simply nodded. "Shala, ring the bells, I want all the agents assembled in the yard within ten minutes. Taki, Razia, we will need your blades as well. The rest of you must continue in your duties." The General got up, arrayed in Ivysteel scale mail and bearing a straight Western blade at her hip. Kami had never seen another like it, although Mei claimed his people used similar broad blades. The General's sword was not ornate, but it was forged of Ivysteel, that green enduring metal said to be nigh unbreakable and that could cleave through wood, stone, iron or steel without notching.

  Kami made her way to the covered balconies that oversaw the Training Yard where a dozen of the Tower's agents were hurriedly assembling, arrayed in a myriad of colors but all with the scale mail of the Tower. Devasa in his vermillion steel sat atop a white palfrey while Shala in sky colors sat atop a dun mare. The other agents were still buckling on belts, helping each other with straps while grooms brought forth stallions, chargers, mares and other magnificent specimens of horseflesh collected from the East's varied stocks. The Tower's small herd were among the largest in the East, bred in a program that predated the Tower's construction decades ago.

  Kami watched as the agents finished their preparations. At the end in lacquered plate armor was Taki Kaorei armed with longbow and her two swords, one longer than the other, but both curved and sheathed in black lacquer ornamented with a painted chrysanthemum. Razia al-Ni was mounted beside Taki, arrayed in a simple scale mail corselet and silk, armed with a blue ribboned spear and a curved scimitar at his waist, his forked beard immaculately pointed with oil and wearing a bronze half-helm. Kami wished she was old enough to ride out with the General against the Dirgesingers.

  "Form up!" The General's voice was one of command. "Canter!"

  The dozen agents followed the General out of the gates, the two midnight and crimson armored guards saluting at their passage. They bore no banner, there was no need. All knew an agent of the Alabaster Tower, and the Tower was riding in force to meet the Dirgesinger's minions, revenants, ghouls, specters and shades.

  "So they leave."

  Kami was surprised, she never heard the old albino stir or move.

  "Mistress Canda, how may I serve?" The girl gave the woman a deep bow of reverence. She was lower in the Power than Kami, but the woman had wisdom.

  Canda the White, called for her pale skin, ivory hair, and crimson eyes was the oldest person in the Tower, arrayed in cream silken robes edged in cloth of silver. She bore a gnarled staff banded in bronze, white oak from a far off land.

  The old albino woman smiled at Kami, but it seemed sad to the girl. "You may listen, and do it well."

  Kami bowed again.

  "Many trials have our city and people faced since Miri came to us from the Waste. One by one the Seers of the Old Order have died, and each of the visions came to pass in some manner. This was my vision, when the Dirgesingers crashed upon our shores and their abominations roamed our fair Isle. When I was young, the people said that we Seers spoke with the gods' own voice, and so we believed it. Miri changed many things, and I stand witness to the destruction of the Order of Seers."

  Kami did not understand. "We are not destroyed Mistress Canda, the Tower is strong, we weathered the storm, our agents are powerful, they ride in strength."

  The old albino laughed and gave the girl a dry smile. "Miri was our storm child, and she swept away the old ways for this Order. We showed her justice, and she showed us the truth of our vision."

  "Is it so bad?" Kami wondered.

  "Yes and no, Child. Ghibai once thought itself neutral in the affairs of the world, but a single ember from the West has reignited into a bonfire, and the Dead seek warmth. This is only the beginning."

  END

  About the Author

  Silas A. DeBoer temporarily resides in the fifth circle of hell (some call it Oklahoma). A native born Nebraskan and life long student of history, philosophy, and legend, Silas makes a life with his wife Carrie and their five cats. Silas and Carrie enjoy role-playing games, video games, and reading for pleasure.

  May all our readers recognize the blessings in their life, and do all they can to make this dark world a brighter place.